


Out of the Dark

by Infernal_panda



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, But not exactly, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Protective Bucky Barnes, Romance, Slow Burn, The Raft Prison (Marvel), relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29363244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infernal_panda/pseuds/Infernal_panda
Summary: After unwittingly breaking a mutate out of prison, Bucky finds himself strangely attached to Wren, a girl with a spotty past and snarky attitude. Due to the recent fracture in the Avenger’s Team, none of them can agree what to do with her. With problems cropping up at every turn, they will either have to put that aside or risk letting their enemy take over.From Chapter Two:"Make a friend, honey?" Natasha asked Clint as they walked, her voice dripping with venom-laced honey."Oh no. This isn’t on me," he scoffed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Talk to them."Steve rolled his eyes, shedding his leather jacket and draping it over his arm.  "Is Cho here?""Waiting in the MedBay. We didn't know how bad it was," Tony answered, looking at Wren scrutinizingly. She didn't look hurt. Just like she needed a shower and a good fifteen hour nap. Not that he could judge."And everyone else?""In the debriefing room. Wanda was complaining how useless and boring they were, by the way," Tony said. "I think she forgets how reckless and impulsive you guys can be. I, for one, can't wait for this particular meet of the minds."
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James “Bucky” Barnes/OFC, Pepper Potts/James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Tony Stark/Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a bit mix-match of canon and decidedly not-canon. Lol 
> 
> Everything happened up until Civil War, except when it didn’t. Two of the biggest changes you will notice is that none of our friends ended up in the Raft, and instead of beating each other senseless after Tony finds out Bucky killed his parents, Tony got a good punch in (on Steve) and told them to sign the Accords. All’s well that ends well. Lots of other things are different(hence the pairings) but those are the major ones. 
> 
> Oh. And JARVIS. I can’t write Friday as well as I do JARVIS, so you get JARVIS and Vision at the same time. Lucky you. Lmao. 
> 
> Anyway, any other questions you have you can ask in the comments. Enjoy! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> Violence, non-consensual drugging, mentions of electricity as a means of torture
> 
> PS: I am aware that Mute is a derogatory term. I used it solely because from what I’ve seen in my limited experience, people don’t usually know that. It is used twice, then after that it isn’t used again.

Director Fury was a pain in the ass.

That was all Bucky could think as he settled into the Quinjet for the eighth time in two weeks. Just like the other seven times they were called, it seemed nobody else in SHIELD was capable of dealing with the situation but them.

Bucky wasn't convinced.

He knew that SHEILD was probably still testing him and how successful their friends in Wakanda had been in reversing everything Hydra screwed up, but he couldn't exactly protest, no matter how much he wished he could. They were right to be doubtful. A lot could go wrong if Hydra still had power over him, but he trusted Shuri. If she said he was fixed, he wanted to believe her, which only made the situation more frustrating.

Bucky picked up one of the books he borrowed from her before he left. It seemed like it was taking forever just to make it through one of them. There was always something going on, always another mission lined up, and as much as Steve claimed that it was good for him to stay busy regardless of the reason behind it, he was looking forward to just hanging back at the Compound for a while. Relaxing. Taking advantage of Tony's billionaire status and freakishly large beds.

Bucky watched scrutinizingly as Sam walked over and sat directly in front of him, wearing that ugly purple shirt he hated, and put his shoes up on the arm rest beside him. Bucky glared at him then his shoes, but Sam pretended not to notice, lifting up the case file Fury sent over. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the glint of amusement in his eyes.

That bastard.

Bucky never thought he'd miss the living hell that was Hydra, but here he was.

Out of everything that had come with Steve saving him from Hydra, the worst thing was finding out that his best friend ended up with Sam Wilson while he was in Wakanda. Not that he cared that Steve was gay. No. But with Sam? Steve could have his pick out of anyone, and it had to be him. It was just wrong. Sam was petty and infuriating and sarcastic and charming and...just like he used to be.

Bucky reached his hand into his bag and pulled out the last ham and cheese croissant he woke up 30 minutes early to nab from the kitchen and bit into it with gusto, feigning a small moan. If he was being honest the cheese was a bit much, the ham a bit too sweet mixed with the bread, but Sam didn't need to know that.

Sam's jaw twitched and he dropped the file an inch to glare at him.

"That was mine."

Bucky took another cheerful bite. "Sorry."

Sam didn't seem to believe him. "Can you chew any quieter?"

Nope, Bucky thought.

"Can you move your feet?" Bucky shot back.

"Oh. Sure." Sam wiggled his shoes, but kept them firmly in place, and went back to reading.

Bucky gritted his teeth, and contemplated how much trouble he would be in if he punched his best friend's boyfriend in the face. Instead, he threw a "fix this" look over to Steve, who was strapping the last piece of his harness. Steve, the traitor, just smirked at their antics, and took the seat beside Sam, taking Sam's hand in his. Bucky paused chewing, shooting daggers at the intertwined fingers with his eyes.

"You guys ready?" Clint asked over the comms. He jumped as he pulled his pants the rest of the way up and then sat in the pilot seat, buckling his belt. "Natasha is going to be pissed if we aren't back in time for movie night."

"All set," Steve answered. The jet started up. "ETA?"

"20 minutes," Clint responded. "As long as the storm doesn't pick up, anyway."

Steve picked up his file and Bucky sighed, taking that as his cue to open his own. The file was not quite as thick as some of the other's he'd seen, but there was enough there that Bucky was sure whoever they were meeting had quite the record. His eyes scanned the picture in the top left corner of a woman with sandy brown hair with what looked like a dozen sporadic dreads mixed in. 

"Camilla Kyle. Known Aliases: Killer Quill," Steve read off. So not dreads. "Arrested for aggravated assault, theft, and murder. Known for attacks on two SHIELD bases, as well as numerous random attacks later identified by the sharp quills, from which she gained her name, left behind in her victims."

"And what does she know that is so important that we are being sent out in a storm to talk to her?" Sam asked, squinting at the long list of criminal charges.

"I'm not sure,” Steve said. "I guess we will have to see."

******

(The Raft: Underwater Specialized Prison for Enhanced Individuals. Located in the Atlantic Ocean.)

"We're here. Initiating contact now," Clint called over the comms.

Bucky looked out the window, but there was nothing but water stretching on for miles. He lifted out of his seat, trying to look directly beneath the quinjet, but still, there was nothing.

"Wait. Where is it?" Sam asked, equally confused.

A moment later, lights shone dimly under the tumultuous sea, growing brighter and brighter as the massive metal prison rose, until it finally broke the surface, tons of icy water spilling over the sides and out of various pockets in the architecture. As massive as the part of the building breaching the water was, it was only a fraction of the entire size, if the lights shining beneath the surface were any indication.

Bucky schooled his expression and gestured to the window, earning him a very unimpressed look from Sam.

"Thanks," Sam deadpanned.

When they landed, Clint met them at the mouth of the quinjet, the thunder and pelting rain drowning out a lot of the sound.

"So what's the plan?" he asked loudly, shoving the last of his granola bar in his mouth. "Are we packing?"

Steve frowned, looking at the two guards waiting for them across the way. "No. They were very adamant that we aren't allowed any weapons. We shouldn't need them, though."

"Shouldn't," Bucky repeated. It wasn't exactly a secret how often things went sideways for them.

Steve gave him a look that said he was none too pleased with the policy either. "Clint, I want you to hang back. Turn on the shield and stay on comms. Be ready for anything and we will keep you updated. Other than that, all we can do is stay vigilant."

"Got it, Cap." Clint threw his quiver over his shoulder and moved back to the front of the jet. "Have fun!"

The rain soaked them to the bone as soon as they stepped out, and they hurried to shelter. 

"Captain. Sergeants," The Head Guard greeted as they shook off the cold droplets clinging to their skin. "I'm Agent Roscoe."

Bucky was almost surprised that it wasn't General Ross that greeted them with as much of a fight he had put up, but then again, he didn't see the jerk allotting his time to oversee some random inmate. Bucky wasn't complaining. He would take cheerful newbies over General Prick any day.

"Nice to meet you," Steve said, amicable as always. "Thank you for having us."

"Of course. I just hope you get what you came for."

The door shut heavily behind them and Bucky couldn't help but tense. He always hated cramped spaces. It was a fairly common fear, but being tied down and locked up against his will made it a little worse than your average phobia. He reminded himself that he was with Steve, that he was safe and away from Hydra, but that could only help so much, and his eyes darted around the fortified walls in front of him.

_Know your exits. Not safe. Low vigilance._

Bucky stiffened.

"I'm assuming Fury gave you the run down on the inmate?" Roscoe asked.

"Yes sir," Steve answered.

"Great. That makes my job a lot easier. Now. As for what to expect..."

Bucky could hear the man start his spiel ofinstructions for their time inside the Raft, but he couldn't focus on them, the intrusive thoughts too loud. Everything was getting fuzzy, the edges of his vision narrowing to black.

_Not Safe. Trapped. One exit. Get out_.

Bucky's hands clenched at his side and he tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. _Comply. Comply. Comply or Die, Asset._

"Hey."

Sam punched his shoulder, and all the sounds around him slid back into place at once, snuffing away the thoughts, and finally allowing his lungs to expand. He drank in the cold, damp air greedily feeling relieved at the sudden interruption. If he was able to snap out of it, it was his own mind turning on him, not Hydra taking control. Knowing he was still conditioned wasn't exactly comforting, but it was better than the alternative.

Sam watched him with a concerned pinch in his brow.

"You good, man?"

Bucky blinked at him, still a little disoriented, but managed to nod. Sam frowned, but didn't get the chance to argue before Steve was nodding to the elevator door.

"Guys. Let's go."

Sam gave him one last uneasy look then two fell into step behind Steve and Roscoe. The elevator only went down one floor, then they made their way inside the first room, all of them walking slower than usual, too intrigued by their surroundings to rush getting to their destination.

"This first several sections are for our less dangerous convicts," Roscoe informed them.

Their footsteps echoed off the metal walls, and they could feel dozens of eyes from inmates and guards alike, watching them as they moved from one containment room to the next, each time a door shutting and sealing loudly behind them.

"There are six sections on each side of our interrogation rooms, 12 cells per section. The further inside we go, the more dangerous the convict."

"That's comforting," Bucky snarked.

"Yeah, well. This is just our first floor," Roscoe said, the slightest of amusement in his voice. "We house everyone from arsonists to serial killers, so we want to put as much distance between the more powerful convicts and freedom as we can."

"This is great," Sam muttered, as yet another door closed behind them.

"Mm. Just swell," Bucky agreed.

"Is that guy a tool? Because he sounds like a tool," Clint said over the comms.

Bucky snorted, but the sharp dad-look from Steve kept him or Sam from replying.

Although most of the people behind bars looked relatively normal aside from the piercing glares or curious glances, Bucky was intrigued when he spotted an inmate who looked more reptile than human, then another with colorful, almost feather-like hair. He knew he shouldn't be surprised, since mutates came in all shapes and sizes, but learning about something was totally different than seeing it first hand.

Bucky also noticed fairly quickly that despite there being twelve cells per room, a lot of them were empty aside from the standard beds and toilets. It seemed like an unnecessary waste of space, but he figured there must be some reason for it. He could understand why most rooms had at least one cell separating each inmate, probably for security reasons, but even though there was the occasional room with the full 6 convicts, many of them only held three or four.

The sixth room was even emptier than the others. Bucky's head swiveled around, and he was just beginning to think it was completely empty until his eyes locked on a pair of anxious hazel eyes under a head full of wild, messy hair. She wore the same blue jumpsuit as the others, but her arms were wrapped in a strait jacket. That was the first time he'd seen that.

As soon as she realized she had Bucky's attention, she was shaking her head purposefully, all but jumping toward the bars, like she wanted to tell him something urgent, but her lips didn't move. Not that it probably would have mattered if she did. The glass was so thick he wasn't sure they would hear her regardless.

"Back away from the bars," Roscoe commanded.

She ignored him, standing firmly in place. Bucky tilted his head in question, searching the girl's face for answers, but his steps didn't falter, and soon the large metal door closed between them.

The Head Guard turned in his place, making them stop. "Before we continue, I will need your assurance that you will not take any restraints off the inmate. We have taken control of her quill growth, but that doesn't mean she can't fight. She has enhanced strength and speed, and even if it doesn't hold a flame to yours, we would rather not have to subdue her."

"Scared she will escape?" Bucky asked, raising a brow.

"No. Nobody escapes from here. I'm not particularly fond of having injured staff, though," the man assured him. "So. We are in agreement?"

Steve and Sam nodded, but Bucky was too busy surveying the room to bother.

"Alright." He turned to the next door, which was much larger and thicker than the others. "Bring her in!"

A thunderous lock dropped and the door opened, revealing the woman from the file being chaperoned by two guards. She was a little worse for wear, thinner and more pale than she'd been when she was first arrested, but there was still the same glint of defiance in her eyes.

Something about it seemed to put Bucky on edge. He looked over the room, along the bannisters and in the corners, and he found he was seeing shadows everywhere. His nose wrinkled in distaste at his own paranoia. It was understandable, considering all he'd been through, but still. He blamed that brunette dame in the strait jacket.

The guards lead Camilla to the table in the center of the room, and chained her wrists and ankles to the built in anchors before pulling up three chairs for the team.

"Thank you. We will take it from here," Steve said.

Agent Roscoe didn't look comfortable leaving them, but nobody could argue with the authoritative edge in Steve's voice. He reluctantly nodded to the others and they filed out, the echo of the lock clicking behind them sounding far less comforting than it probably should have been.

Steve took a seat as the door closed, and Sam followed suit, the screech of the chairs against the floor less than pleasant. Bucky considered joining them, but he didn't like the idea of leaving their backs exposed. He nodded back to the door and Steve agreed, before turning back to the girl.

"Huh. That was easy," Camilla said, looking impressed. "Those guys are usually such sticklers for their precious protocol. Real downers, let me tell ya."

"We tend to get special treatment," Sam said, easily. "Comes with the territory."

"I see that," Camilla grinned. "Must be a sweet gig."

"Pay is shit," Bucky grumbled under his breath across the room. Steve had to fight back his amusement, schooling his smirk into something more polite.

"Thanks for meeting with us, Ms. Kyle. My name is-"

"Steve Rogers," She finished. "Sam Wilson, and..." Camilla squinted at Bucky and he stared back impassively. "Handsome. That's all I've got. Sorry, love."

Sam looked personally victimized at the description.

"Bucky Barnes," Steve informed her.

Her lips turned down in the corners. "The Winter Soldier. Nice."

"As you probably know, we were sent here today by SHEILD. We were told that you had information that could be beneficial to them," Steve said.

"I do."

"Well, if that's true, we may be able to make things in here more comfortable here for you."

"More comfortable? What, you mean like TV time or extra snacks like in the movies?" Camilla let out a cold laugh. "Please. Do you even know what this place is?"

Steve frowned.

"I'll take that as a no," she said snidely, running her tongue over her teeth. "It's constant artificial light and metal walls."

Steve and Sam waited for her to elaborate, but she just lifted her hands and dropped them again, her shackles rattling.

"That's it. No communal areas or book clubs. No classes or chances at building a new life. Our whole life is an 8x8 room," she said, disdain dripping from every word as she stared intently into Steve's eyes. "There is nothing you could offer that they would ever allow me to keep, so what could I possibly gain from sharing what I know?"

"You obviously thought there was something, or else we wouldn't be here," Sam pointed out.

Camilla smiled. "You're not wrong, but I basically already told you what I gain. This place isn't just incarceration, it's constant psychological torture. Low-grade? Sure, but torture is still torture. Hell, this is the most mental stimulation I've had in months."

"If you are trying to gain sympathy, I should probably remind you that you've hurt a lot of innocent people," Sam countered, pushing her file toward her. "With all the different abilities people have in here, having you all together or in possession of certain things could get someone hurt or allow you to break out. It's a precautionary measure, but I'm sure you already knew that."

Camilla shrugged like the point was inconsequential, but Sam could tell he hit a nerve by the way she inched away from the file. "Does that mean we deserve it? That we are without possibility of rehabilitation? They can lock us up, throw away the key, and since we've made a few mistakes, nobody blinks an eye?"

Sam looked to Steve, whose face was hard in contemplation. Sam knew what he was thinking. It was the same thing he always thought when subjects like this were brought up-Bucky. And Bucky was nothing if not trouble, even in the mind of America's Best Man.

"I don't know if you guys are aware," she continued, pretending to look at her sharp, pointed fingernails. "But most of us mutates-we've had a pretty rough go at things. I'm not just saying that to justify what I did either. I, for one, just happen to like heists." She smirked, but it didn't quite pass as genuine. "Some of us, though, I'd even wager that it was most, didn't have a choice in what got us here. We were just trying to survive in a world that wanted to snuff us out from the get-go. Outcasts. How could we ever hope to get ahead of the game when we weren't even born on the same field?"

Steve's fists clenched under the table until his knuckles were white. As much as he could sympathize with that and wanted to help, he was better at reading people than they gave him credit for. He knew manipulation when he saw it.

Across the room, Bucky seemed to be thinking the same thing, watching Camilla's every move, coiled like a snake ready to strike. She was up to something, that much was obvious. If he knew that Steve would listen instead of being bull-headed, he would have already suggested they leave. Whatever information she had was not going to be worth the price. 

Out of nowhere, a hand wrapped around his mouth, ripping him from his thoughts and jerking him backward. He instinctively jerked his elbow back, but the body dodged away from him, and his eyes flew open when he was suddenly thrust into the hallway wall, the dark-haired girl pressing up against him with one hand resting loosely on his throat and a finger held to her lips, strait jacket nowhere to be seen. Bucky ignored the gesture, wrenching her hand away in one fluid movement, and knocking her onto her back.

"Most secure prison in the world my ass."

She gaped at him, surprised at his reaction for some dumb reason, then let out a sharp breath from her nose, pressing a finger to her lips again, then lifting it to twirl it in circles above her head. Bucky gave her an uninterested blank look.

She was halfway through an irritated sigh when she perked, looking back out to Steve and the others.

"I'm getting the guards," Bucky huffed.

She shook her head and pointed to Camilla, dragging her finger across her throat.

"The girl?" Bucky asked. She nodded and Bucky frowned at the three.

"So what were you thinking, then? The information in exchange for requesting The Raft to reevaluate their incarceration tactics?" Steve asked.

Camilla shrugged. "It seems like they need to, doesn't it?"

Sam squeezed Steve's hand under the table twice, paused, then once more. Steve gave him a curt nod.

"I'm not in a position to make changes here, or even offer concrete deals," Steve said, with his on-brand soft-stern voice. "What I can do is hear what you have to say, and tell my superiors you complied. If you help us, we will help you. I don't know what form that will take, but I assure you it will happen. I give you my word."

Camilla sighed, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips."You know, they said you'd say that."

The girl tensed, and Steve's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Then the girl was running. Bucky cursed himself for taking his eyes off of her, but thanks to his speed, he was only a step behind her. He tackled her, sending them both rolling in a ball of clothes and limbs, before she even made it half-way, drawing the attention of the others.

"Buck, what are you-?"

"Now!" A voice above them yelled.

Camilla yanked her arms upward and the chains broke from her wrists. She bristled, shaking her hair out, making eight dangerously sharp quills retract from her head. Her teeth flashed predatorily.

Bucky slouched over the girl, resigned. "Fuck."

Camilla pushed the table, sending it flying backward, knocking Steve and Sam back a few feet. The corner must have hit Sam in the ribs because he winced as he straightened. Their surprise didn't last long, both already back in fighting position, but it served its intended purpose. She held a severals quills in each hand, each one dripping with neuromuscular toxins.

_The sharp keratin quills leave the victim in a painful, paralytic state._

Steve couldn't help but think now would have been be a great time to have his shield.

"Once you attack us, there's no going back," He warned. "You don't want to do this."

"Pretty sure she does, Cap," Sam countered, his hands up in surrender. Steve shot him a look.

The girl continued struggling under Bucky, trying to push him off of her with every ounce of her strength, but he was unmovable as stone. He grabbed her wrists and slammed them into the floor.

"No, he's right. I definitely do," Camilla said, her wrist flicked forward, and three quills flew forward like darts.

The girl tensed beneath him, slamming her eyes shut, and the quills inexplicably bounced off of an invisible wall, snapping in two from the impact, only a breath away from piercing Sam's suit.

Bucky's eyes widened down at her and she glared as if to say, "can you get the fuck off now?"

They could now hear dozens of footsteps echoing above them, and Camilla was pissed. Three guards stepped inside, but from the looks of their tactical gear, they weren't planning on subduing Camilla.

Two guards charged at Steve, and she flicked the next set of quills at him while his back was turned. His reflexes were more in-tuned than she ever expected, though, and he grabbed one of the guardsat the last second, the large quills sinking into his back instead of Steve. He picked up the man's frozen frame and threw him against the other guard.

Sam was busy dealing with his own guard, but even without his suit, he had far more hand to hand combat skills than these guys, and the guard was knocked out before Steve could offer a hand.

Realizing they weren't sending anyone else to help her, Camilla tried to pierce their skin again and again, but was either thwarted by the invisible wall or was just a hair too slow. She shrieked angrily.

"Fucking! Stay! Still!"

Camilla threw the last of her quills, panting and looking slightly unhinged. Steve didn't look concerned, taking a step toward her and tightening his glove.

"Don't move," a voice ordered. Camilla grinned and took the opportunity to run toward the back door, crouching in the safety of the small hall between the door and the opening to the Interrogation room. "Move and we shoot."

Bucky sucked his teeth in frustration. "Can you do whatever stopped those quills over all of us?"

Wren's face scrunched in thought, then nodded, pinching her fingers together, hoping he would understand.

"What? If we're all close enough?"

She brightened, nodding eagerly.

"I said don't move!" The man repeated above them. "Steve Rogers! This is your last warning."

Bucky gritted his teeth. Damn it, Steve.

"Fine," he relented, lifting himself off of her. "Get us out of here."

The girl gave him a withering look at the demand but closed her eyes, her face screwing up in concentration. After a moment, her eyes flew open and they were so bright they were almost gold, shining like the sun.

The whole room resounded with loud gunshots. 

The girl lifted one hand in a sweeping motion, then with the other, she wrapped her fingers around Bucky's wrist. Snippets like scenes from a movie of invaded his mind, searing into his memories like flames. Numbers. A badge. A grate.

Steve ripped the girl away, knocking her to the floor, and they both came back to their current reality gasping.

"Stay down," Steve commanded, towering over her. "Come on, Buck, it's time to leave."

Bucky looked past Steve and Sam's concerned faces to find the girl on the ground, cradling her arm in her hand. He offered his own hand out and pulled her to her feet. "You okay?"

She winced but nodded.

"Is _she_ okay? What the hell is happening?" Sam asked, spreading his arms out.

What the hell was right. Tranq darts were showering down above them, popping off of the shield like popcorn then hanging lifeless in the air.

Bucky ignored the question and aching in his head to pull the girl to her feet, earning him a shocked look from Sam and Steve.

"Let's move. Stay close. And You-you're at the end."

The girl nodded, eyes sharp.

Bucky quickly typed in the code for the first key pad, and held his breath until the door slid open. Huh. He hadn't actually expected that to work. As if reading his mind, the girl threw him a self-satisfied smirk.

The Badge.

Bucky looked around the next room for the metal frame from his memories and sure enough, there was a floor panel near the far corner.

"You got anything sharp?" Bucky asked the two men.

Before either could answer, the girl dug into her bra and held out the buckle to her straight jacket. Bucky took it without question and worked on prying it open, and she turned back to focus on keeping the force field around them.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, impatiently. 

"I'm findin' her key," Bucky answered. "And she’s keepin' us from getting shot."

"Who? The mute?" Sam asked, throwing his thumb over his shoulder.

Bucky pried up the metal grate and held up the key card. 

From there, it was relatively easy. Steve busted the card reader before they left the first room, and since most of the manpower was focused on the interrogation room, what few guards were left were easily subdued by Steve, Bucky, or both. However, whatever juice the girl cooked up to use her abilities was obviously running low, and it looked like she was struggling just to stay standing. Thankfully, Sam helped steady her, and they made their way back one room at a time.

"Have you tried the comms again?" Sam asked, panting.

Steve pressed on the comm in his ear, wincing at the loud static.

"Clint, you there?" Steve tried.

There was another loud crackling that made their hearts drop, but then his voice cleared. "-mative, Cap. What happened? You guys went dark."

"We ran into trouble," Steve said. "Have the Quinjet ready to go."

"Will do. Need anything else?"

Steve glanced at the girl, then Bucky, who was watching him with a carefully concealed expression, but there was a glint in his eyes that made Steve uneasy. It wasn't often that Bucky took an interest in something, but it was obvious that for whatever reason, he wasn't planning on leaving the girl behind. Steve could argue, but he didn't see any reason to at this point. Bucky was stubborn as a mule on his best day, and Steve had a feeling this was not one of those. Steve gathered his resolve and sighed. He hoped he didn't come to regret this.

"Yeah. Tell Tony to have Dr. Cho on standby at the Compound. And-" Steve hesitated. "And we're going to need the Chamber."

Bucky winced internally and the girl looked up to him in concern. He had expected as much but it didn't make him feel any better.

There was a heavy pause. "Is he okay?"

Steve's jaw tensed. "Yeah. It's not for Buck."

******

Three days prior, Wren sat in the back of her cell, staring blankly at her hospital grade gripper socks. They were an ugly shade of blue, too bright in the face of her surroundings, with little tufts of matted fluff clinging to them. She quirked her head when her toes suddenly twitched. She felt a strange, subdued amusement at the involuntary movement, but it was too far away, and after a moment she couldn't remember why she felt it to begin with.

Trying to hold on to a specific thought when she was good and drugged like this was like trying to catch a single raindrop in a hail storm, but as much as she preferred those days where she was able to hide her pills away instead of taking them, there was a comfortable warmth that came with not thinking. It sounded cowardly, like she was giving up, but it was just easier. She didn't have to feel or worry about anything. She could just float across time, there but not there. She found it rather fitting.

There but not there. Stuck in a cell, where nobody missed her, where nobody was looking for her, where nobody cared if she was alive or dead. There but not there.

If you asked her, Wren wouldn't be able to tell you what day, month, or even what year it was. Time was not a construct she had the luxury of maintaining. Even if they allowed her a way to keep up with the days, it wouldn't matter. The constant light and the unreliable state of her mind kept her from knowing if it was day or night. The only proof that time had passed at all was the ever changing faces that watched over her.

Wren had gotten used to sleeping dreamlessly through the night. That was another benefit of the medications. She couldn't remember a time before them when she wasn't wracked with nerves at the very possibility of leaving herself vulnerable enough to sleep, and even when she allowed herself to succumb to exhaustion, her sleep was riddled with nightmares. Now it was just blackness. 

When she woke, her morning guard would grumble as they were forced to feed her, topping off her breakfast with 5 colorful tablets before going back to their posts to act as warm-bodied gargoyles until lunch, then dinner was topped graciously with more pills, and then she would end her day by all but stumbling to the corner of the bed to start all over again.

Most days, she was contented to float through her routine, but then there were some days where just existing wasn't enough for her.

There was a loud beep and she blinked slowly at the sound of the door opening.   
  
  


_Shift change_ , she thought to herself.   
  


There were footsteps, more than usual, and a familiar smell hit her. Wren's eyes shot up, and even through the haze, she couldn't miss the sickly green that infiltrated the various other subdued colors surrounding her guards, leaving a sulfurous and metallic tang on her tongue.

She watched one man from the group take her previous guard's post, whispering something to him as the others continued on to the next door. Wren tried to pick up the words but they were too muddled by distance to make any sense. Whatever he said, it left the guard looking more than a little confused, but he nodded and left the room.

The new guard must have caught her staring because he walked over, kicking the bottom of the glass with his boot.

"What are you looking at?" He sneered.

Wren didn't respond, just staring blankly back at him. If she could, she would have flipped him off, but wasn't life a bitch? He huffed in annoyance, turning back to his spot, and she leaned her head back against the wall to close her eyes.

_Something is changing. Something is changing. Something is changing._

She repeated the words like a mantra in her head, not allowing the thought slip through her fingers. Holding it got easier as the hours passed and the medications wore off, but she was worried that her night dosage would push them just out of touch and, for a reason she didn't understand, that scared her.

Turns out, she didn't have to worry about that.

"Wake up. It's time for breakfast," a guard announced. Wren blinked blearily through sleep blurred eyes and her stomach dropped.

Every day the colors around the guards were shifting and darkening with new colors, which was concerning on its own, but today, there was the unmistakable hue of deep crimson swirling around him. Adrenaline gave her a clarity she didn't want and she shied away from him with a silent whimper, hating the fear that lanced through her.

"Come on. We don't have all day," the man said, ripping open the package of plastic cutlery. "I've got other things to do."

Wren only had a moment to contemplate her options, and she shifted onto her knees to stand and forced herself to walk forward before she could convince herself otherwise. Wren trudged through the plate of flavorless powdered eggs as usual, bite after bite, but when he held out her meds, she met his eyes and his pupils expanded.

_Unlock my cell. Put the pills and your badge in the grate. You will tell no one. Don't speak unless spoken to. When the shift ends, you will forget any of this happened. It was a boring shift as usual._

The compulsion trickled into his mind and he blinked away a confused look before pulling out his keys. Wren collapsed backward, gritting her teeth as her whole body tensed with flashes of blinding pain in her skull. It took longer than she hoped for them to finally subside and she wished she had time to just lay there and rest it off like she usually did. It took a minute or so for him to finish unlocking her cell, since it took three different keys to fully unlock the doors, but he when he finally finished, he turned away from her and walked straight to the far corner.

Wren waited until it was done before she rolled over, wincing at the lights dancing in her vision, and worked on getting off the straight jacket. It was a tedious process and by the time it was unlatched and she had free range of her arms, she was sweating, hair clinging to her forehead. She walked to the edge of the mat covering the floor, and with still-covered hands pulled it back.

She fumbled the small stack of comics a few times before successfully stuffing them into the neck of her jumpsuit, followed by a small notebook that slid down and caught by her ankle. She laid the mat back down and all that was left to do was wait. 

When the door opened not even two hours later,her arms snapped back around herself. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest as stepped toward the glass. A high ranking guard was droning on about the facility, three men in strange uniforms following shortly behind him. They were all brighter than anyone else she'd seen since she was locked up, beautiful wisps of color dancing around the clouds of grey. 

But they weren’t what caught her full attention.

The high-ranking guard didn't have the same dark aura around him as the lower ranked guards, but the sudden spike in excitement and malicious crimson reeking from behind them told her all she needed to know. She was wrong. Whatever they were planning had nothing to do with her.

But those men- those men were going to die.

Wren didn't know why the trio was there, or who they were, but she didn't need to. When a flash of curious, grey eyes peeked out at her through a curtain of dark hair, and she threw herself toward the glass.

_Go back! Turn around! Don't trust them!_ She pleaded with her eyes, but he was too far away. Even if he wasn't, the compulsion she used on the guard that morning was enough to put her out of commission for days.

"Back away from the bars," The Head Guard commanded.

Wren fought back the urge to comply, holding the man's steady gaze. She hoped for a moment that he would understand anyway, but the concern in his face was fleeting, and the metal door closed behind them.

Then everything was happening too fast.

Despite herself, she helped them escape, and now there were foreign hands on Wren's skin, guiding her over steps and unconscious bodies. There were more people, more complete strangers, in one room than she knew how to deal with. To top it off, she'd used way too much of her energy just trying to keep them safe, which left her feeling unnervingly exposed. She couldn't let herself think or feel or worry about any of that, though, or she wouldn't make it out of there.

"Have the Quinjet ready to go." The blonde, Steve, said. "Yeah. Tell Tony to have Dr. Cho on standby at the Compound. And-and we are going to need the Chamber."

Steve's eyes flicked over to Bucky's, searching for something in his face, but it remained steeled, even when Wren smelled his scent turn sour. Steve didn't look comforted in the least by his lack of reaction and the determination in his face made her think that it wasn't the end of that conversation.

Steve's fist flew into the steel elevator button pad after they climbed out, making Wren jump and leaving a gaping hole in the wall, ensuring nobody would be leaving the Raft unless he knew about it.

Wren looked at his unblemished fist warily. That was some super-strength he had there. Just when she had almost convinced herself Steve and Bucky were just really good at taking out guards.

"How long do you think they'll be in there?" Sam asked, panting.

"Until SHIELD comes to clean up."

"Not long enough," Bucky grudged. Wren thought of all of the hateful looks and words she received and couldn't bring herself to disagree.

The last door flew open with the force of the wind and Wren felt the overwhelming urge to cry. Rain.

She took her first hesitant steps out of the Raft in three years, her free palm turning up. The cold droplets pricked her skin angrily, the dark-grey clouds heavy and looming above her. Holy shit. It was even more beautiful than she remembered.

Through the sheets of rain, she could see a large jet in the distance, and Wren suddenly found herself unsure of what to do. Helping these people was an impulse. She didn't really have time to consider what would come next, and now, she didn't know. If she stayed, things would go back to the way they were. Predictable. Easy. Boring, but safe.

Or...not.

Wren had just broken out and helped these people escape. If she stayed, there was no guarantee the guards would even let her live. Or worse, they might even send her back to where she came from. That thought made her skin crawl.

What was the alternative, though? Going with these strangers? They were stronger than her. A lot faster too. Probably enhanced in some way or another, if she had to guess. If she wanted to escape, there would be no way she could fight them off.

Thunder rumbled in her chest and under her feet and her breathing began to pick up, mentally scrambling for the right answer as she dragged forward. What if this was all an elaborate test? What if there was a reason the guards wanted to hurt these people?

Every atom of her body was screaming at her to get away, to escape on her own, but where could she possibly go? What if Rowlock found her again?

Only 15 feet from the jet.

Wren halted, the arms that steadied her falling away. Sam wiped the rain off of his face to look at her.

"Come on," he urged. "It's not much further."

Steve and Bucky both stopped at the sound of his voice, and Bucky studied her with concern etched deep in his brows. She was shaking like a leaf.

"Kid?"

Wren took a step back, shaking her head, making her vision sway dangerously. She couldn't do this. She couldn't trust that these people were going to accept some freaking prisoner they barely knew. On the off chance they did let her go, The Raft was the only thing keeping him from finding her and she couldn't risk living like that again.

"What did you do?" Bucky demanded.

Sam glowered back at him. "I didn't do anything. I think she wants to stay."

"I'm sorry, but we need to go," Steve pressed. "They could have already called for help."

Bucky shot his best friend a glare. He wasn't going to just leave her. They probably wouldn't have made it out of there if she hadn't helped them, at least not unscathed. "Just-Give her a minute."

Sam stepped forward, tilting his head to look down at her offering back his arm. "It's okay," he said, gently. "You helped us. Let us help you. We won't let anything happen to you, but we need to go now."

Wren's face pinched, and she met Bucky's eyes again swallowing thickly through the panic before shaking her head again. She pointed back to the door. I have to go back.

Steve's lips were pursed, and Sam's face fell. Bucky didn't look concerned though and sighed.

"Ah, fuck it."

Wren's brows furrowed in confusion, and in the next moment, she was hauled over Bucky's shoulder, her stomach dropping to her toes, and the door to the Raft slowly faded away in the haze of rain. Wren froze, too surprised to fight, and before she knew it, she was tossed into a leather seat, glaring at him from the whiplash of being tossed like a rag doll.

"Now. That wasn't so hard was it?" Bucky said, an infuriatingly adorable smirk plastered on his face.

Her response(or rather lack thereof) was drown out by a deafening siren, lights flashing through the windows. The floor of the jet rumbled and Bucky teetered forward, almost falling on top of Wren when the ground shifted beneath them. Instead of backing away, Bucky covered her with his body like a shield and looked up at Steve and Sam, who both seemed to be thinking the same thing he was.

"Clint, get us out of here!" Steve shouted to the front.

Clint didn't even bother responding, pulling up on the controls and getting them off the ground. Wren watched in horror as the prison sank back into the depths beneath them, disappearing completely in less than 30 seconds, leaving nothing but crashing waves behind. She could hear the others talking and moving around her, but she just stared out the window for a long time, unable to think about anything but how close she came to drowning.

It almost sounded stupid, to survive all she had just to be washed away like watercolor in the middle of the ocean.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

At some point, Steve and Sam had taken the seats in front of her, looking at her with concern. She wasn't sure if it was because they assumed she was plotting their murder or genuinely worried for her. She figured since she was sitting in an ugly prison jumpsuit it could go either way. Regardless, she took a steadying breath and forced herself to nod. She'd already caused enough trouble without them having to worry about her.

Wren looked around for the first time. She hadn't ever flown in a jet, or even a plane for that matter, but this was nothing like she'd seen in the movies. The area they were currently in was relatively normal, four sets of four seats, each pair facing eachother, but then there was another area on a platform where seats lined the walls. It was black throughout except for the blue-hued light shining in from the windshield of the cockpit.

Wren’s fist balled up at her side as a blonde man decked out in black stood from the pilot seat and made his way to the back.

Clint had apparently put the jet in autopilot, barging into the room with a grin. "Holy crap was that intense or what? I'm guessing we aren't getting an invite back?"

He looked expectantly to the boys then caught sight of Wren. "You guys do realize that you have a stowaway, right?"

Bucky appeared beside her, holding out an old hoodie, new socks that were several sizes too big, and some sweat pants then gave Clint a look. "No idea."

Clint's lips turned down in interest and Bucky sat beside Steve. "Cool. Breaking out convicts. I'm down. What's your name, jailbird?"

Wren smirked to herself, wishing he knew just how close he was to it just by the nickname alone, then mimed writing with a pen. She knew they would probably look her up, but there was no stopping that. If she didn't tell them her name, they would probably find out one way or another. Especially if they worked for SHIELD.

Steve dug in his bag and held out a notebook.

"What is she mute?" Clint asked, confused.

Wren rolled her eyes, then pulled down the neck of her jumpsuit to reveal the sleek black metallic collar around her neck.

Bucky frowned at it. It was tight, too tight, looking almost embedded in her skin. It couldn't be comfortable. "You can't talk because of the collar?"

Wren carefully jotted down her full name-Wren Elise Cohen-on the paper before nodding. She looked like she was trying to think of how to say something else but after a moment she just she just jotted down another word and handed the notebook back to Steve.

Shocks.

Bucky didn't looked pleased by the jaggedly scrawled answer, but he didn't comment on it, instead gesturing to the bathroom. He already made sure to put anything that could be used as a weapon away while he was back there getting clothes. "You can get dressed back there. Dry off. Whatever you need."

Wren stood, then like an afterthought, she signed a quick "thank you." Her legs still felt heavy with fatigue but she walked as briskly as possible to the back, eager to escape if only for a few minutes.

They waited until the door locked behind her to turn to Sam, whose laptop was already open in his lap.

"So?" Steve pried.

Sam passed the laptop over and Steve's brows furrowed.

"Well? What's it say?" Bucky asked.

"Not much," Sam said. "Wren Cohen, age 24. Abilities: force fields and minor emotional manipulation."

Emotion manipulation? He would have to watch out for that. But what about that thing she did with the memories? He thought about voicing the thought, but something had his jaw clicking shut. He could always bring it up later.

"Damn," Clint huffed. "Force fields? That's pretty cool."

"You have no idea," Steve muttered. Clint looked like he wanted to ask, but he decided to wait until the briefing. He knew it was annoying as hell to explain everything twice.

Bucky leaned over to read the rest for himself, but there wasn't anything else. Just a younger picture of her in the corner. "Where's her criminal record?"

Steve shook his head, looking just as confused by the lack of information. "There isn't one. Just a sealed file."

Clint peeked his head over the seats. "Huh. Think Tony can get into it?"

Sam shrugged. "Probably. I don't see why not."

Steve pondered for a moment then handed the laptop back to Sam. "Send the file to Tony and ask him to get started on it. Tell them we are meeting as soon as we get back."

"What are we gunna do about her?" Bucky asked, nodding to the bathroom door.

"You're going to get her settled in and keep an eye on her until we can figure everything out," Steve answered, like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"Babysitting duty? Seriously, Stevie?"

"Would you rather send her back?" Steve asked, squaring his shoulders.

Bucky frowned. "Why can't you make Sam do it? Isn't he the shrink?"

"She helped you, not us. I just think-"

The door unlocked, and they all looked up. The clothes were even baggier on her frame than he expected. Not that she was small (tons of medication and lack of exercise weren't known to help keep an hourglass figure) but even still, she wasn't nearly as tall or bulky as the guys. She felt weird in the clothes, and from the looks they exchanged, she probably looked just as strange, but it's not like she had much of a choice in the matter. She pursed her lips as she sat down, wishing she could tell them they were being creepy. Then again, maybe not having her voice was a good thing. She didn't really think they would appreciate that.

"I'm going back to the front," Clint said, breaking the awkward silence. "We should be there any minute now."

"Okay," Steve said. "Let the team know, if you can."

Wren looked back out the window, and sure enough, she could see buildings had taken over the scenery instead of water. She looked to Bucky, her brows furrowed.

"New York," he answered without hesitation. Steve gave him a sly, meaningful look that he chose to ignore. She nodded, turning back to the window, but the confusion on her face stayed.

Buildings turned to trees, and then a massive infrastructure came into view, so large it spread across several acres. It was in a clearing of forested land near a beautiful body of water, looking more like a resort of some kind than any kind of corporate building or living space. A familiar circled "A" in slightly titled font was stamped on the top of the long building in the center, but she couldn't quite place where she'd seen it before.

Overall, it didn't necessarily look nefarious, but neither did any of the people she met so far. That begged the question: if they weren't wanting to hurt her or use her, what were they going to do with her?


	2. It’s A Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the team meets Wren. 
> 
> Bucky shows her the Chamber. 
> 
> Wanda offers her help. 
> 
> Wren has trouble coping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: torture, depression, suicidal (type) thoughts
> 
> Sorry for the technical difficulties on 2/15/2021. I accidentally deleted a chapter when I realized that for some reason it showed the publication date as earlier than when I posted it. I was wondering why I wasn’t getting the hits I usually do but it was never put at the top of the pile. It should all be fixed though. If you notice anything though, let me know! Thanks.

Tony and Natasha stood under cover of the hangar near the landing pad, watching as the quinjet climbed closer to the Compound.

"My money is on Sam," Tony said, looking at Natasha over his sunglasses. He was looking less put together than usual- an old jacket thrown over the t-shirt hugging his figure, his dark jeans covered in oil, and hair sticking out all over his head, like he hadn't used a brush in days. For all she knew, he hadn't. He spent most of the night working on Peter's new and improved suit, and hadn't gotten around to changing just yet, despite Bruce's insistence.

Natasha raised a brow. She, on the other hand, looked impeccable, even with her hair thrown up in a messy ponytail. She was wearing her leather jacket and Clint's favorite pair of form-fitting jeans.

"You know. Who it is that needs Cho. It's basic deductive work. I bet Clint stayed back with the jet, and since Steve and Bucky have their enhanced healing-" he shrugged. "Sam."

Natasha looked over her shoulder toward the doors behind her then held out her hand. She didn't usually do bets with the guys, for obvious reasons, but it didn't feel like robbing Tony. He had enough money to go around. "Steve; martyr complex."

Tony smirked, taking her hand and shaking it. "Easy money."

A minute later, the Quinjet landed and the metal ramp opened up. Tony rubbed his hands together beside Natasha and she rolled her eyes fondly at his overconfidence. That is until they walked out. A young girl, who couldn't be older than 20, was walking in the center of the group, Steve and Sam in front, Bucky and Clint following closely behind.

Tony's face hardened and he looked to Natasha, who looked no less thrilled by the development than himself. It was the girl from the file they sent over. That was a lot to unpack. They were still decrypting the file, but they didn't need to know exactly what was on it to know that it had to be something pretty bad to get her locked up in The Raft. Tony wasn't sure why Fury had the Backstreet Boys go there in the first place, but he sure as hell knew it wasn't to break someone out. The Raft could have released her, but from the stuffy stoic look on Steve's face, he doubted that was the case. Questions would have to wait though.

Tony and Natasha opened the doors to the Greeting Parlor as they approached, and the girl was looking increasingly distressed as her eyes flickered over the room. As massive as it was on the outside, it was nothing compared to the inside. Apparently dark was a general aesthetic with these people, red furniture standing out in the various hues of black and metallic grey. It was clean looking, almost overly so, like it had been plucked straight out of a magazine. It was more than a little intimidating.

Natasha, saint that she was, forced a polite smile when Wren finally seemed to notice them, but Tony had never been accused of being the same. He looked from he baggy clothes and matted hair with barely concealed distrust.

"Make a friend, honey?" Natasha asked Clint as they walked over to the sitting area, her voice dripping with honey.

"Oh no. This isn't on me," he scoffed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Talk to them."

Steve rolled his eyes, shedding his leather jacket and draping it over his arm. "Is Cho here?"

"Waiting in the MedBay. We didn't know how bad it was," Tony answered his eyes flitting over her again scrutinizingly. She didn't look hurt. Just like she needed a shower and a good fifteen hour nap. Not that he could judge.

  
“And everyone else?" 

"In the debriefing room. Wanda was complaining how useless and boring they were, by the way," Tony said. "I think she forgets how reckless and impulsive you guys can be. I, for one, can't wait for this particular meet of the minds."

Wren looked to Bucky, expecting-well, she wasn't sure what, but he just huffed. He wanted to tell Tony just where he could shove his opinion, but he wasn't in the mood to argue. Plus, he'd had enough "We Are a Team, Bucky" speeches from Steve to last a lifetime.

"Bucky, go ahead and take her to the Chamber and get Wren settled in. We can send Cho down there to check her out, right?"

Tony nodded, but didn't look pleased with the idea.

"Fine." The look Bucky gave Steve left little to the imagination about how much he wanted to do just about anything but that, but he acquiesced, nudging Wren's arm. "Come on. It's this way."

She pursed her lips, but followed without complaint, even if she threw a look over her shoulder to the door a few times before they disappeared into the elevator. Yep. Definitely a flight risk. Not that she could leave unless Tony wanted her to regardless.

"For the record, I think this is a bad idea," Tony finally said.

"We will discuss it with the team," Steve said, firmly.

"Whatever they decide, we will go with."

*****

Not being able to talk fucking sucked.

It always did, sure, but being here made it exponentially worse. She never really had anyone to talk to before, and talking to the guards was far from what she considered a good time. She wasn't exactly known for being the best at keeping her mouth shut and it would likely lead to an even worse punishment than silence.

Now, though, it seemed like everyone was talking about her and around her but nobody to her. She wanted to scream. She was in this gigantic freaking palace and didn't know where she was or what they wanted or anything. She didn't want to go to the place that obviously made Bucky uncomfortable, because odds are, it probably wasn't a good place to be. She wanted to go to sleep and get into clothes that fit, but what could she say? _Nothing_. That's what.

"Tony's a dick," Bucky said beside her. He shrugged. "Kind of part of his charm. He's a good enough guy, if you can tolerate it, though. Steve will work it out."

Wren wondered what Steve could have done to earn the absolute confidence in Bucky’s voice, but she nodded.

He was watching her like he expected her to want to say something else, but she had nothing else to say. Not to be rude, but didn't really care what Tony was like. She didn't figure she would be around long enough for it to matter. Surely they wouldn't send her back to the Raft after she helped them, but then again, what could she know? Rowlock said he would make sure that she would never get out of there, and unfortunately, even now she believed him.

Wren swallowed and her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. The elevator door opened and Bucky stretched out his arm awkwardly. "After you."

Wren narrowed her eyes at him.

"What?" He asked.

She copied the gesture and he rolled his eyes.

"I'm not gunna toss you in and lock the door." His tone didn’t match the sentiment but he obligingly stepped into the heavily-windowed hall and lead her to a bolted door.

Bucky pressed a button near the doorframe and a lit number screen popped out of the panel to the right. He glanced over his shoulder then stepped in front of it to type the password, making Wren roll her eyes. It wasn't like she was going to look.

There was a _beep, click_ then the door opened. Not even bothering to try to get her to go first again, he stepped inside the room, slipping off his backpack and set it by the door. He reached for his jacket, then stopped, almost like he was pushing away an old habit, and pulled it tighter against him.

"JARVIS, lights."

The high-security room was beautiful and spacious, with an open feel despite there not being any windows. There was a large bed in the center with the Palace-Typical dark grey bedding and a black and white painting of barren trees in a blanket of snow hanging above it. On the side of the room facing the door, there was a long, comfortable looking couch with an espresso coffee table in front, a desk tucked away in the far corner, and an island separating the living area from the kitchenette on the far side of the room.

Wren was confused to say the least, and more than a little unsettled. Was this like a test or a weird joke? This couldn't possibly be where they intended for her to stay. This was bigger than her whole apartment, bigger even, than her childhood home. She watched Bucky searchingly and he shifted from foot to foot under the weight of her gaze.

"Its not too bad when you get used to it," he said.

Her brows furrowed and she motioned to herself.

He frowned. "Damn. That's gunna get frustratin' fast," he muttered.

She gritted her teeth. _No shit. How do you think I feel?_ She thought bitterly.

She took a deep, calming breath then motioned to the room, then herself again.

"Is this your room?" He guessed. She nodded. 

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a gloved hand."It is. I'm sorry. Hopefully it's only temporary. Steve will-"

Bucky's words were cut off with a surprised grunt as Wren collided into his chest, throwing her arms around him.

Bucky froze in her arms and he didn't have time to process it before she pulled away, hands still gripping the shoulders of his jacket, the most adorable grin he'd ever seen shining all the way up to her hazel eyes. His heart stuttered painfully in his chest and god help him, did he want to make her do that again. She patted down the wrinkles and practically skipped over to the desk, or more specifically the books that lined the shelf above it. She pulled two random ones out and held them up for him to see. He nodded robotically, still a little in shock, but there was a slight up-tilt to his lips.

She opened one, flipping through the pages, closing her eyes as the scent of the pages wafted to her face, then laid them down and moved to the couch, plopping down on it and running her hands over the material.

Bucky felt weird watching her, like he was intruding on some special personal moment, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. She was just so...happy. It was strange to see anyone but himself, Steve, or Natasha in the room that he always associated with failure and grief and anger. Her smile just made it brighter, somehow, like it was seeping away the darkness.

Wren didn't seem to notice his internal struggle as she sunk into the cushions. laying her head back dramatically. She looked up at Bucky at patted the seat beside her, beckoning him over.

"Oh, no. I'm-I'm good," Bucky said.

Her smile dimmed a little, looking disappointed for some reason he didn't understand. Bucky cursed Steve for putting his socially stunted ass in charge of her. He was awesome as an agent, but not in the same way Natasha was. Bucky had no use for learning social cues on the types of missions he was trained for, and any that he may have known before the war were lost in a sea of hazy memories.

  
“Do you want to see the rest?" He asked, hopefully.

Wren grinned again, not quite as widely as she did before but nodded, following him to the kitchenette. Bucky stepped inside and kind of motioned around like "here it is."

Wren made a overdramatized show of looking impressed, and Bucky snorted.

"There isn't an oven," he said. "There should be plenty of microwave food, though, if you want it. Tastes like shit."

Wren huffed out a silent laugh then pointed at him.

"Yep. Had enough of them to know."

Wren peeked into the fridge. It was mostly filled with water, but there were a few beers and vitamin waters in the back. It was pristine-like everything else. Definitely not like her old fridge from her apartment was. Those were dark days.

"You can blame that on Steve," he explained. "Only the healthy stuff. Bathroom's this way."

Bucky lead her out of the kitchen and to the small hallway on their left. He opened the door and let her peek in. "There's mostly just men's stuff, but I'm sure we can get you somethin' else."

Wren nodded again, but her mind was elsewhere. It was obvious that, for whatever reason, they considered this room to be bad, like a holding cell or something, yet from what she gathered from Steve’s comment, Bucky was the one that stayed there before her. She wanted to ask why he was kept in there, but didn't know if she should. Or if she could figure out how to.

"There isn't much to do, but it's not that bad," Bucky said, stepping back.

Wren shrugged. It's not like that would be much of a change. At least there were books if she got bored. Until then, though, she had plenty of other things in mind.

"So are you good?"

Wren tilted her head in question.

"I mean, I can stay if you want, but I figured you might want space," he amended. "I probably would."

Wren was confused but she nodded. He was going to leave her alone. That was kind of awesome, but she figured that he was going to stand guard or something. So far, she would take this over The Raft any day.

"Okay, then. Uhm-" Bucky looked around, avoiding her eyes. "If you need anything, just ask JARVIS."

Wren raised a brow.

"He's the AI. He controls the lights, communica-" Realization hit and he sighed. "You can't talk."

Wren tapped her nose then pointed at him. Got it in one.

he stared at her for a long moment. 

"You're pretty snarky for a someone who can't talk, you know that?"

Wren mustered up her most sarcastic smile and Bucky found it way more attractive than he wanted to. He cleared his throat.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes?"

"Can she-knock or something when she needs me?"

"Yes. I believe that choosing a specific point would keep there from being any misunderstandings."

Bucky nodded. "Knock on the desk, then."

He grabbed his backpack by the door, then hesitated. "Cho will probably be down in a bit. She's good people. Don't worry about it too much."

Wren frowned, but nodded. She didn't exactly like the idea of meeting new strangers, but she didn't figure she had much of a choice. Then she was alone.

*****

On the top floor, things weren't going as well. Explaining what happened had gone smoother that Steve anticipated, with the only interruptions from Sam or Clint adding in their own details or information, but Tony made up for his silence then with heated arguments now.

"So the girl broke out of her cell, miraculously, and you guys didn't question that?" Tony asked.

Steve rubbed his hands down his face. "We didn't really have time, Tony. She saved us. I didn't question anything outside of that."

Tony scoffed. "And you don't think she may have saved you just to get back here? For all we know, the kid is working with them. How else did she get out? Magic? The power of friendship?"

"We don't even know who 'them' is yet," Steve argued, feeling like he was saying the same thing over and over. "I'm not saying we have to trust her. I'm just saying I'd rather not throw her back into the Raft until we are sure."

Natasha listened to them continue to argue, giving Bruce a look from across the table. She didn't even know why they were there if the boys were just going to argue the whole time. Bruce nodded in commiseration, twiddling with his glasses.

"Look," Natasha said, sharply. "Why don't you let me or Clint question her? We will figure out what we can and then once we decrypt that file, we can make a decision to either let her stay for a while until we can figure out something else, or find somewhere to send her. The Raft isn't the only prison for enhanced people."

Steve pursed his lips as everyone turned to look at him. That would be a great plan and all, but he didn't figure Wren would answer them no matter how long they kept her in there.

Clint looked between them all, then let out a low whistle. "Are you going to tell them or should I?"

Natasha's brows furrowed. "What?"

"Wren can't talk," Sam explained. "They have some kind of shock collar on her. She can write, but it’s not pretty."

"Of course," Tony said, throwing up his hands. "One thing after another."

"I was hoping-" Steve said, sternly. "That you and Bruce could look into how to remove it."

Tony glared at him. "Do you think before you talk or do you just open your mouth and let words fall out?" Steve just raised an irritated brow. He was almost glad Bucky wasn't here because if he ended up punching Tony, he would never hear the end of it.

"Don't you think that if they put a shock collar on her, there's a reason for it? What if we take it off and she can wail loud enough to burst our eardrums?"

Bruce shook his head, leaning forward to cross his hands over the table. "There wasn't anything about that in her file. All it said was that she had force fields and minor emotion manipulation. We could pull her more specified files from SHIELD but I don't believe they would have left something that powerful out of the basic file."

"I agree," Vision said, his hand in Wanda's. "It is far more likely that the collar is some sort of punishment, though I see no record of such device being approved for usage in the SHIELD protocols."

Tony crossed his arms. As much as that particular explanation made sense, nothing else did. He didn't mind keeping Bucky here. If he was being honest, he was kind of starting to like the guy, despite himself and all of the muddy history, but this was different. Nobody knew Wren. All they knew was that she managed to break out of her cell in a prison designed for the most powerful criminals. Why nobody else saw that this was a disaster waiting to happen, he didn't know. He just knew he'd made enough mistakes to know that this was one he wasn't going to condone. Not when Bruce and Peter were here.

"I could look into her head," Wanda offered. "Vis and I aren't leaving until tomorrow. It won't be pleasant for her, but it can be done."

"What do you mean?" Clint asked, looking a little scandalized by the idea. He knew better than most how it felt to have someone in your mid that doesn’t belong. "What all could you see?"

"I could look see if she is dangerous or not. I won't be able to see everything she's ever done, but I will be able to see enough. The longer I can hold the connection, the better."

"And if you miss all of the dangerous things?" Tony asked.

Wanda smiled, but it wasn't exactly a pleasant one, almost predatory. "I won't."

"I must advise that if Wanda does check her mind, it be done while Dr. Cho is here," Vision said. "As Wanda pointed out, her abilities may be painful. It would be best if done under a physicians supervision."

Clint let out a small laugh and everyone turned to look at him.

"He-Vision. Supervision. Whatever." Natasha nudged his foot under the table in amusement and Bruce gave him a pained look.

"Anyway," Steve said, drawing out the word. "As much as I don't like that it will be painful, I don't see any other way to assure that everyone will be safe. Tony?"

Tony's lips were in a tight line, but when Bruce gave him a small nod, he sighed, pushing his chair away from the table.

"Whatever. Do what you want, but Peter isn't allowed back at the Compound until she's gone." Tony left before anyone could protest, Bucky backing away from the door as it flew open. He peeked into the room, and Steve looked about as happy about the matter as Tony did.

"I'm guessin' that went well?"

*****

As much as Wren wanted to sleep, there wasn't really a point if Dr. Cho was going to be coming in soon. That also left out showering or reading, so instead, she worked on getting more familiar with her room. There wasn't a closet, but there were two three-drawer chests on either side of her bed. She opened them and found, unsurprisingly, black shirts, socks and underwear. She was probably a little more embarrassed by the latter than she should have been as a fully-fledged adult, but knowing that they were Bucky's had her face flushing.

Wren was practically itching to hide her things from the moment Bucky left, but there wasn't really any place for her to keep them out of sight. She lifted out the comics and notebook from under her shirt and tapped them against her hand as she walked around. She finally went to tuck it beneath the mattress, but it didn't budge, apparently somehow connected to the heavy frame.

Wren frowned. Under further inspection she realized that there were small hooks anchored to the bed, similar to ones they had installed throughout the Raft to secure a prisoner’s shackles in the event that they escaped or were being moved. What reason could they possibly have for restraining Bucky?

From there she only started noticing more. There was almost nothing sharp or movable, for one. The couch, the bed, everything seemed to be bolted to the ground, except for the books(obviously), and aside from the wall art, there wasn't any other decorative items. The only utensils in the kitchen were spoons, and even though there was a desk, there weren't any pens or pencils. It made sense, she guessed, but it was a little unnerving if she thought about why that was for too long.

She tried not to let her unease get the best of her and set out on her original quest. She thought about tucking her things under the books, but she the nagging fear that someone could find them when they picked a book was too insistent to ignore. She walked to the kitchen and settled on hiding them under the fridge. It was less than ideal, since she would probably have to move it to get them back out, but better than having them out in the open where just anyone could take them. She grabbed a water bottle from the fridge then walked back to the couch, pulling the soft grey blanket off the arm and draping it over her lap as she sipped at the water.

Wren tried to think of what could happen, what the others were talking about, but her mind kept drifting back to Bucky. She chalked it up to the fact that he was the only person that she'd really talked to, but there was a part of her that knew she would be stupid to think she wasn't attracted to him. All of the people she’d met so far were unfairly gorgeous. Bucky just more so.

Even if she could tell Bucky wasn't exactly thrilled that he was the one to walk her down to the Chamber, he didn't seem completely averse to her. He was quiet, but she had a feeling that had less to do with her and more like the default for him. Still, he seemed sweet and funny, in a weird, sarcastic kind of way. He always looked so stoic, but she didn't miss the way he almost smiled here and there. None of them were quite the smirk she'd gotten on the plane, but she would get it there. A genuine smile, that's all she wanted. She just hoped they let her stay long enough to see it.

With how things went earlier, she wasn't sure that was going to happen. The man with the goatee and the red-haired girl didn't seem to be happy she was there. Sam was nice, but he could honestly go either way, and Steve...she wasn't sure about Steve. Or more accurately, she could tell Steve wasn't sure about her. She had the sneaking suspicion that had a lot to do with Bucky, though, if the way he kept looking at him had anything to say. It was times like this that she wished she understood her powers more.

Judging people by their aura's was far from an exact science and she wasn't exactly given a manual. She didn't even have the benefit of seeing her own colors as reference. It was frustrating, to say the least. At any one point and time, there could be as many as 15 different colors swirling around people, and they were constantly changing, some dim and others vibrant, some pulsing and some in constant motion. Just when she thought she understood what a color meant, people would do something unexpected, and she would start to doubt herself. Grey was easy. She didn't realize it until she was older, but the people tinged with grey were always carrying grey, the color tending to linger no matter what other emotions they were feeling. It was the only constant. It was normally how she came to judge people quickly, if she had to. Guilt.

When she first discovered it, she figured that the people with the most grey would be worse people. People don't usually carry guilt unless they've done something wrong, so logically, it made sense. It never really steered her wrong until she met Rowlock. Rowlock, who didn't have a single wisp of grey. It was several weeks later, after she was already in too deep, that she realized grey wasn't just guilt, it was self-given guilt, and that-that made all the difference.

She supposed that's why she clung to Bucky. Even if he hadn't been the closest to her at the Raft, it was always her plan to try to appeal to him. Where Bucky was shrouded in the grey, bright colors weaving in and out of it like a rainbow in a cloud, Steve's grey was less dense, and Sam hardly had any at all. Enough to trust he wasn't completely evil, but not enough to make her feel comfortable choosing him.

Red was another one that Wren was all too familiar with not to know. Wren couldn't count how many night she laid awake, thinking how stupid she must have been to ever believe a word that came out of Rumlow's mouth when there was such a strong, almost sickly, chemical smell emanating from him, but in her defense, in her naive mind, she figured it was like any smell: a preference thing. She absolutely hated the smell of plain lavender, but a lot of people seemed to like it. She hadn't run into enough people with red to know that it was a bad sign, but she was a quick learner.

Other than that, the rest seemed to be almost impossible to tell. She associated at least three colors with happiness, but for all she knew, they could be excitement, comfort, or general contentedness. The same was true of "sadness." She could tell when someone was upset, but she never knew what kind of upset. Was it grief? Isolation? Distress? Yearning? Since most people could tell when someone was upset regardless of their aura, Wren mostly found her powers useless.

Wren closed her eyes, starting to doze, warm and comfortable. If she focused hard enough, she could still smell Bucky lingering in the air: pleasantly sweet, with earthy undertones, like the dirt during a storm, and just a hint of something metallic, leaving a sharp tang on her tongue. She wasn't sure if it was his normal smell, or if it came from his aura, but whatever it was, it was almost intoxicating.

There was a knock at the door, and Wren opened her mouth, but just in time she clamped it shut again. That hadn't happened in a while. She must really be out of it. A few seconds later the lock clicked and a woman opened the door. She was beautiful, long brown hair tied in a knot on her head, with slight bangs hanging on either side of her face, as if the stray hairs had fallen. She smiled sweetly when her eyes landed on Wren.

"Ms. Cohen?" She asked.

Wren nodded.

She walked over to extend her hand and Wren took it easily. "I'm Helen Cho. I've been requested to look you over. How are you feeling?

Wren nodded her head side to side. She hadn't been hurt so much as drained. She'd gotten enough of her energy back on the jet, but she was glad that she was relatively safe because she didn't know if she would be able to make another force field right now if she tried. "It's my understanding that you create force fields?"

Wren nodded again.

"I assume that is what caused the fatigue that Sam described then. Mental powers tend to be far more physically strenuous.” She paused looking over some papers on her clip board. “Have you ever used your abilities to that capacity before?”

Wren thought about it, and it was hard to compare earlier to anything she’d done before. She used it during her time at Juvie when people tried to fight her, but other than that, she hadn’t had much use for it. Or if she did, her powers were suppressed.

She shook her head. Dr. Cho jotted down a quick note. “That’s interesting. So I’m guessing you aren’t sure what to what extent they work?” Wren shook her head again and

Dr. Cho smiled. “My colleague, Bruce, and I have a lot of experience in enhanced individuals. If you would like, when you are feeling up to it, we would love it if we could run some tests." Wren's nose crinkled up and Dr. Cho laughed. "Nothing as bad as what you're thinking, I promise. It would be more like a training exercise to test the strength of your force fields. How far they reach, how strong they are, that kind of thing. If we could figure out a way to test your emotion manipulation, we could do that, too. Hopefully give you a better understanding of what you are working with."

Wren hadn't ever done anything like that. Her force fields held up to a lot of damage, but she could feel when it started to crack away. When it happened at the Raft, though, it wasn't so much from the power of the shield starting to fail, but her own ability to keep it up. She'd never used a shield quite that big. It would be interesting to know just how much damage it could take. Her emotion control didn’t even seem worth the effort. It was more like suggestion, pressing a feeling onto people, but unless she had a lot of time to push it gradually, they could see right through it. Even more so if they knew what her abilities were. Her compulsion was much more powerful, but it was not pleasant to do, and usually left her out of commission for a while. It hurt to even move for at least an hour, and even then, the headache stayed for at least twice as long. That being said, as cool as it would be to figure out how it worked. She had no intention of sharing that particular power with anyone, much less these people.

Wren nodded in agreement and Cho's eyes lit up in excitement. "That's great! Bruce will be very pleased. We could probably have something set up as soon as tomorrow. That all depends on your own strength and how fast you recover, of course, but I think that-"

The door creaked again, and Steve peeked his head in owlishly. Dr. Cho stopped, looking like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar. She walked over, shooed Steve off without a word, then shut it behind him again unapologetically. Yep. Wren liked her.

"I forgot they were waiting," she explained sheepishly.

Dr. Cho paused, looked hesitant, as if searching for a way to phrase what she needed to say. "Before we continue, I should inform you that The Team is requesting that I oversee a rather...orthodox procedure." Wren frowned. She didn't like the sound of that. She gave a slight shake of her head to show she didn't understand, suddenly wishing that Bucky was there. "From what I understand, there are a lot of conflicting feelings in regards to whether or not you should be allowed to stay. Safety is a priority here, you must understand, and with you being an unknown variable, they are unable to come to a consensus."

Wren figured as much would happen, but it didn't make it any easier to hear. She slumped a little in her seat, looking over at the untouched bed. It was nice while it lasted, anyway.

"There is a way that they can assure their safety and allow you to stay, however, if you agree to it. A member of the team, Wanda, has abilities that stem from the power of the mind stone. If she were to look into your mind, she would be able to determine if you harbor any malintent toward the team. However, before you agree, you should know that it won't be pleasant, even if it only lasts a few seconds, but I will be here to monitor and make sure nothing bad happens."

Wren pursed her lips. What. The girl was going to "look into her mind?" She shouldn't be so thrown by the idea, seeing what her abilities were, but still. That was a lot to swallow. Would she see everything? If she did...they would throw her back in the Raft for sure. Then again, the doctor said she would be looking for malintent and she didn't have any. She was only there by chance. She may have done things she wasn't proud of, but she didn't want to hurt anyone ever, much less the people that helped her.

Dr. Cho seemed to sense her hesitance and her voice softened. "We will never force you to do anything you don't want to do. It would make things easier, and I can't guarantee that they will let you stay if you don't, but we won't force you to do this. You have a choice." The heaviness in her words made Wren wonder if she had some kind of powers too. Like she knew just how many times Wren hadn't had a choice, how strange and uncomfortable it was for her to have one. Wren took a moment more to think then nodded slowly, trying not to let her fear get the best of her. It was either try and fail, or get kicked out anyway.

Dr. Cho smiled. "If that's the case, we can check your vitals after. No point in doing it twice. One moment."

As soon as the door closed, Wren jumped off the couch, the blanket almost tripping her in her haste, and hurried to the desk. She knocked on it twice, and waited, looking up at the invisible voice, hoping that it would actually work. As much as she didn't think Cho meant her any harm, the thought of doing something big on her own was daunting.

The door opened again, not even thirty seconds later, and Dr. Cho, Steve, a new red-haired woman and Bucky stepped inside. Wren's eyes seemed to zero in on Bucky's pink-tinged cheeks and the unamused set in his jaw. That part didn't really make sense until she saw Steve's face, who was looking way too smug for a guy who was wearing long-sleeves with basketball shorts.

"I apologize," Dr. Cho said, barely concealing her own amusement. "I should have asked if you wanted someone to be with you during the process."

Wren blushed, feeling more than a little stupid for assuming Bucky wasn't already outside, but forced a stern look. Never mind. She takes it back. Dr. Cho was the worst.

"Told you," Steve muttered. Bucky punched him and Steve pushed him back playfully. Bucky did not seem to think it was funny, his ears still a bright red.

The red-haired girl let out a small airy laugh.

"I'm Wanda. Ignore them," she said nodding to the boys. Her voice had a slight accent, but Wren couldn't begin to guess where it was from. "It'll be a habit of necessity in no time, trust me."

Steve nudged her with his elbow with a smile like a you would expect from a brother toward a younger sister, warm with adoration and a hint of mischievousness. Whatever the relationship between all of these people, they seemed really close. She wondered if all of them lived here, or if it was just some kind of base of operations.

“Are you feeling any better?” Steve asked.

Wren nodded. Just peachy.

“I think she’s just tired,” Bucky said. “She’s been eyeballin’ the bed since we walked in.” Steve smirked again and Bucky sighed.

“This shouldn’t take long.” Dr. Cho motioned to Wanda. "Do you want to walk her through this?"

Wanda shrugged, pursing her lips. "It's going to hurt."

Won't be pleasant, her ass.

"I was thinking more of the actual process."

"That is the process," Wanda said, her brows furrowed. She looked back to Wren, and her face softened. "I'm going to have to touch you, is that alright?"

Wren blew out a breath, throwing a last glance to Bucky. He gave her an encouraging nod, and she held out her hand. Wanda crossed the distance and wrapped her hand over Wren's, her fingers dainty, soft and cold against her anxiety flushed skin.

Wanda took a breath, and gave her a small smile. "I'm sorry. I'll be quick."

Wanda closed her eyes and everything went hot.

Strikings agony lit up in her brain, seeming to fry it from the inside, bubbling and bursting over and over in tortuous spurts, like giant, gaping blisters, leaving the tissue remaining open and raw. Her whole life seemed to flash in a moment, the blood, the heart wrenching grief and anger, bits of happiness peppered in with all of the torture and deafening silence.

Wren couldn't hold it back. A scream ripped from her throat, painful and raspy from years of disuse, and Bucky looked to Steve in panic.

Wanda tore away from her as Wren's body was wracked with piercing electricity, jolting her from the couch and leaving her writhing on the floor. Her body was so tense it looked like she would shatter, and Bucky could hear her teeth grinding together.

"What the fuck?" Wanda hissed, holding her hand.

Bucky jumped forward to help, wanting to do something, he wasn't sure, but Steve jerked him backward by the back of his jacket.

"Don't touch her!"

Bucky shot him a glare. "She's not breathing!"

Steve looked to her worriedly, realizing he was right, but kept his hand firm. Bucky tried to break his hold, but when Steve grabbed hims shoulder and pulled him flush to his chest, arms wrapped around him, he stopped struggling, defeated. He knew Steve wss right, that he couldn't do anything to help her without also hurting himself, but that didn't make him feel any better. Actually, it made it feel worse.

After what felt like hours, there was a beep, and Wren finally sagged, falling completely still. Dr. Cho rushed forward and felt her pulse, then leaned over to check her breathing.

When she finally turned, there was a grim look on her face. "She's okay. She just passed out.”

“God...” Steve finally let his hand drop, staring at the bright red burns on Wren’s neck.

“I didn’t mean to make her scream,” Wanda said, guiltily. “I didn’t even think about that.”

“None of us did,” Steve said.

“Can you give me the room for a minute? Push in my cart when you leave."

"I'm staying," Bucky argued, his eyes hard. They stared at each other for a long time before she relented.

"Fine. You can help me move her to the bed." Bucky nodded, pulling her into a bridal hold and walking her to the bed. He grabbed the smaller blanket at the foot and pulled it up, brushing her sweat-damp hair out of her face.

Steve and Wanda left without protest after handing off the cart. The walk to the elevator was quiet, both of their minds replaying the image of Wren on the floor, over and over. Steve finally sighed.

"That was awful."

Wanda nodded, but her face was stony. "She's been through worse."

Steve frowned at the wall in front of him, crossing his arms. "We need to get that collar off."

Wanda peered over at him. "And clean out a room."

Steve studied her then nodded, some of the tension in his stance bleeding away at the implication. The assessment didn't take away from how badly he felt, but it did make it feel worth it. He wasn't sure what he would have done if they had to send her back.

Wanda, on the other hand, suddenly wished she hadn't offered. She hadn't expected to see as much as she did, and that wasn't necessarily a good thing. She knew what she was going to do, but she didn't expect it to feel so invasive. It was like she meant to put her hand in the water, and instead got sucked in, drowning in the undertow. Even when she got what she needed and felt herself trying to pull away, she couldn't, not until the electricity made her jerk back. That had never happened before. Whatever the reason, she definitely wasn't going to be offering to do that again any time soon.

The elevator doors opened and as she looked over at the expectant group, she was glad that it was Steve that was with her instead of Tony or even Vision. Steve wanted the girl to be there, so he didn't pry, so it gave her a little time to think, but she didn't expect the same to be true for the others. Even when they did get around to questioning her, Wanda only planned to give what information she had to. Wren wasn't dangerous, not to them anyway, and she was confident that in the slight chance that that fact changed, they would be able to take her down. Everything else, well. That was between her and Wren.

*****

It had been several hours, and Wren still wasn't awake. Dr. Cho told Bucky it would probably be a while considering how much energy she used at The Raft, then the mixture of what Wanda did and the intensity of the shock, but Bucky was starting to get antsy.

The burn on Wren's neck around the collar was angry and red, sticking out against the paleness of her face, her freckles even seeming lighter than they did before.

Bucky gritted his teeth as his eyes raked over it for the millionth time. Whoever made that thing was a bastard. Nobody deserved that kind of pain just for talking. Except maybe the people that put it on her. he could almost see it, a sick act of justice. Sliding on the sleek metal and letting the assholes get a taste of their own medicine. What he wouldn't do to get _that_ job.

When he first pictured it shocking her, he figured it was painful, obviously, but that was a whole nother level of sadistic. It couldn’t be good for her brain. God knows it hadn’t been for his. He wondered how many times she felt it, but decided he really didn’t want to know. The only good thing that came from the ordeal was that Dr. Cho said she would advise Tony and Bruce work on getting it off as soon as possible and nobody argued with Cho.

Bucky rubbed at his arm subconsciously. It didn't strike him until after Dr. Cho left that Wanda never told him what she found. It felt like he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Steve to come in with guards and haul her off, and Bucky didn't want that. Which is exactly why it was expected.

He still had his reservations, of course. People were never exactly what they seemed, and there were more than enough reasons for Bucky to hold doubt, but for whatever reason, he wanted to believe that she was good. Bucky wouldn't admit it to anyone, especially not Steve, but he didn't even care why she was in the Raft at this point. He wanted to know, obviously, but he didn't think there was anything she could have done that would take away the fact that she decided to help them. Bad people didn't help strangers for no reason. There was always a catch. He just hoped he didn't find one. There was a light knock on the door and

Bucky stopped mid-stretch. "Come in."

Natasha stepped inside, wearing her favorite pajamas, her hair framing her face in soft ringlets. “Still not up?"

Bucky shook his head and adjusted himself on the couch, scooting closer to the middle.

"Not a peep."

Natasha nodded, taking her usual seat by the arm and got comfortable, curling her feet underneath her. He peered over at her, knowingly.

"Good or bad news?" Bucky asked.

Clint seemed optimistic enough, but that was just Clint. Ever the optimist, until he wasn’t. Natasha herself wasn’t sure how to answer, so she did so only in fact. "We are keeping her down here for now. They agreed not to send her back, but that was the compromise."

Bucky had to admit it was better than the alternative, but he couldn't say with confidence that Wren would agree. Her excited grin filled his mind, the way she flitted around the room like she was in a new apartment for the first time instead of a pampered prison. He fought back a smile. Then again, she didn't seem too adverse to it before.

"Tony and Bruce said they would work on getting the collar off when she wakes up. They didn’t even try to argue, not after Steve showed them the tape,” Natasha said, then she rolled her head to the side to look at him slyly. "I ordered her some clothes, too. Should be here tomorrow."

Bucky smirked. "I'm sure you did. Bet Tony's bank account is beggin' for mercy."

She called him a name in Russian and he chuckled lightly, looking down at his hands. He needed this. A distraction. But his brain wouldn’t allow him to keep his thoughts on anything else for long though, and he was back to wearing a checked out gaze, his body here but his mind so much further away. 

Natasha nudged him with her foot, her voice thick. She hated seeing him like this. She hoped they were finally passed this stage in his recovery. Demons never truly go away, but it seemed like they were always uncovering more of them. “Are you okay?”

“It’s been a long day.”

Natasha could understand that. It was a big change. For whatever reason, the girl had chosen him. It didn’t seem like a big deal, and maybe if she would’ve chosen Sam or Steve it wouldn’t have been, but Bucky was different. Bucky sought redemption like he sought air, and something told her that was precisely the reason he latched onto her. They were similar, not exactly the same in her opinion, but similar enough where she could see how he could draw the parallels. It was dangerous, but that would have to be tackled another day. For now, they fell into their usual comfortable silence, just thinking over the day. Bucky relaxed a little, feeling better with Natasha there, even if this was all they did. It was simple, their friendship. There was nothing they wouldn't do for each other, but they cared enough never to ask too much. They knew each other inside and out, the good and the bad. They both accepted that what was done was done and while what they did now didn't erase their past, they could move forward and do better. It seemed like Natasha was the only person on the team that truly understood how important it was to believe that.

It helped that she didn't annoy him, too.

Natasha watched Bucky carefully and every minute or so without fail, he was looking across the room. His frustration that she hadn't woken up yet was evident, but it wouldn't help to bring it up, so she didn't. She was content just to watch for a while, but eventually, she had to say what she really came down to say.

"Wanda isn't telling us everything."

Bucky turned his head. "What do you mean?"

"She said that Wren is safe and that she could probably tell us that what was in the file would be wrong, but Vision was looking at her like he wasn't quite sure what to make of what she was saying. He wouldn't let Wren stay if he thought Wanda was outright lying, so that just leaves that Wanda wasn't telling the whole truth."

  
Bucky leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor. "Do you think it's bad?"

Natasha's eyebrows raised minutely before she could stop them. She half-expected him to argue, or say that she was probably reading too much into it, but then again, she shouldn't have. Bucky knew she was good at what she did. He trusted her judgement, even if it wasn't the same one he had.

"If it was bad enough to worry about, Wanda would have told us."

"Then why are you tellin' me?"

The words weren't harsh or barbed, just a genuine question. Natasha pondered for a moment, then spoke.

"Because I think you're hiding something, too."

Bucky frowned. "What? Why?"

Natasha shrugged. "The story Steve and Sam told didn't add up. If she can only make force fields and mess with your emotions, how did you know the access codes and where to find the badge? She obviously didn't tell you."

Bucky huffed, picking at a loose string on his shirt. "If you're asking it sounds like you already figured it out."

Natasha smiled smugly. "I've got a hunch. Her other powers are mental. It's not much of a stretch for it to be something similar to what Wanda can do."

Bucky sighed. It's not like he was actually hiding it. He hadn't exactly had the opportunity to talk to anyone about what had happened. He wasn't sure if he would have shared the information, though, so maybe the assessment wasn't entirely inaccurate.

"Wanda also thinks she knows what is on the sealed file. When she was a kid, she was convicted with the murder of her parents."

Bucky's eyes snapped to Natasha's.

She smoothed out the blanket in her lap. "They were completely bled out. The courts said that she used must have used her abilities, but if her powers are all mental, it wouldn't make sense. Wanda said she saw what happened, and Wren wasn't even there until after they were already dead, but that would explain why it was sealed. She was a minor."

"Could've started with that," he groused, feeling like he was recovering from a mild heart attack, then shook his head. "That's..."

"A lot, I know. Tony said they should be accessible in the morning so we can learn more."

Wren's shifted and Bucky’s head snapped up, but she only winced a little before rolling over and falling back asleep. Natasha smiled at his disappointment sadly, wishing there was something to ease the tension that had sneaked it’s way back into your shoulders. She didn’t miss it for a minute. It made him look too stiff, too much like the Asset. 

"You should get some sleep. I'm sure she will wake you up when she's awake." Bucky nodded, but it didn't look like he had any intention in doing that. Natasha sighed and stood up, tossing her end of the blanket over Bucky's lap.

"There's one more thing before I go," Natasha said, looking more uncomfortable than he'd probably ever seen her. She didn't usually let herself show things like that. Maybe it was more for his benefit than hers.

"She does have emotional manipulation. We don't know the extent of that, but.." "What are you getting at?"

"I think you know."

Bucky looked away from her, not wanting to see the sympathy on her face. He couldn't deny that he felt a strange protectiveness over Wren, he wouldn't be here if he didn't, but he was protective of a lot of people. It usually took a bit more time, but life or death situations tended to speed things up like that. It wasn't anything more than that, though. He barely knew her. If he thought she was pretty or felt like he couldn't breathe when she smiled, that was just some awkward reaction to being around someone new.

"I'm just telling you to keep that in mind," Natasha said. "The last thing I want is for you to get hurt."

What was she expecting to happen? The girl was 5'6 at most. She didn't look like she could take on Sam in hand to hand and that was saying something.

He gave her a curt nod and Natasha patted his hand giving him one last parting smile, then shut the door behind her. Bucky sighed and fluffed one of the decorative pillows, perching it on the arm and leaning into it. He stared at the ceiling for a while, then glanced to the bed before turning back. It was going to be a long night.

*****

Wren yawned quietly against her pillow. It was so nice; cold and fluffy and silky, reeking of a mix of wonderful scents. She buried her face into it, and inhaled deeply. Somewhere in her sleep-addled mind she recognized the smell, and she felt something deep in her stomach ignite. Her mind supplied the image of gloved hands running down her body, stopping at every curve and dip, stormy eyes looking up at her from between her legs. She let out a small sigh, and he smirked up at her, like he knew just how bad she wanted him. It did bad things to her heart. He kissed the inside of her thighs, trailing closer and closer to where she needed him most. Her back arched in anticipation and she could practically feel the wet heat of his tongue. She rubbed her thighs together, a jolt of pleasure shooting through her. Wren's nose wrinkled sleepily at the long-forgotten sensation. She didn't even know she could feel that anymore.

The revelation made her eyes shoot open, and she looked around wildly. The room was dark, but it didn't take long for her to remember where she was, not with what was currently at the forefront of her mind. Her face heated at the feel of dampness between her legs and she huffed in multi-layered frustration. She couldn't remember the last time she even thought about sex. Figures the first time someone is nice to her in years and she's already fantasizing about him. Typical. Who knew her type was abusive and/or tragically unattainable?

The thought of closing her eyes and continuing out the rest of the dream, slipping her fingers into her panties, and enjoying this temporary lapse in her beyond-broken libido was tempting, but the risk of making noise was not something she was willing to take. Wren sighed and turned her head to look for a lamp or a light shade and her hand instinctively shot to soothe the sudden lancing pain in her neck, instantly regretting it. She hissed in pain, the flesh there still raw and stinging. Her hand shook softly as she pressed it back down on the bed, clenching the blankets.

It took her a minute, but eventually she tried again, more carefully this time, and it was only when she realized there really weren't any light switches that she remembered that the lights were controlled by the invisible AI, Jared or whatever. She walked to the kitchen, hoping there would at least be a light switch in there, but no dice. She opened the fridge door, keeping it open, and sat on the floor to crack open a water, almost downing the entire thing at once. The cold seemed to soothe away some of the tension in her body. She looked around the dimly lit kitchen and bit her lip before bending over to check under the fridge. Of course, her things were still there.

She shut the fridge, the bottles rattling loudly in the silence, and a sudden gasp from across the room had Wren nearly jumping out of her skin.

"JARVIS, lights."

Wren's whole body was alight all over again at the huskiness in Bucky's voice.

Her eyes widened. Bucky was sitting up on the couch, but it was obvious he'd been sleeping. His hair was messy, a blanket strewn haphazardly over his body, and his sleepy eyes, glassy and hooded, were even more sexy than she ever could have pictured. That could still be her hormones, though. She was definitely glad she hadn't given into temptation now. She probably would have spontaneously combusted.

“What are you doin'?" Bucky rasped, rubbing at his eye with one hand.

Wren held up her empty water bottle, hoping he attributed the blush creeping up her neck to embarrassment instead of lust.

"On the floor?" he asked. "How are you feeling?"

Wren gave what could only be a pathetic excuse for a smile and motioned to her neck. Bucky crossed the distance between them, his eyes hard as they focused in on the collar around her neck. He held out his hand to help her up then bent down to get a closer look. He reached toward her face, but before he could touch her, he must've thought better of it and dropped his hand.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Her heart squeezed at the downtrodden look on his face and without thinking, Wren grabbed it and held it back up, her hands looking unusually small around his. He searched her face, his eyes seeming to pull her in, and he let out a small breath that rolled over her skin, making her shiver. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his fingers carefully tilted up her chin. She forced back a grimace, not wanting to give him any reason to pull away, not when she was close enough to taste the vanilla tinged leather on his skin. His face moved closer to inspect the burns and Wren swallowed heavily, heat radiating from her body as the memories of his hands making an unfortunate return.

"It's still pretty angry looking," Bucky said softly, wincing in sympathy. His calloused fingers pressed deeper into her skin as he gently tilted this way and that, his thumb brushing against her cheek. Wren's heartbeat was so loud, she just knew he could hear it. If he did though, he didn't comment on it.

His eyes met hers and he pulled away slowly. "I'm sorry."

The two words sounded so sincere, so sad that Wren couldn't find herself to feel bitter about the how the situation went down at all. She was still here, with him. If she had to feel a little pain for that to happen-well. She could take it. She patted his arm softly with a warm smile.

Bucky didn't look as relieved by the touch as she'd hoped, something akin to conflict etched into his sharp features. "I can call Dr. Cho and see if there's anything she can put on it. Or maybe something to help with the pain."

Wren shook her head. Bucky wasn't the only thing she could smell, and she didn't want anyone else to be subjected to the level of funk she had floating around her right now. She flushed, trying to think of how to say it, then perked, pointing to the bathroom and ruffling up her hair with her fingers.

"Shower?" He guessed, amusedly. Wren could have hugged him. "Okay. Natasha told me your clothes came in earlier this morning. Something about express shipping, I don't know. If you can give me a few minutes, I'll bring them down and leave 'em on the bed."

Her clothes? They bought her clothes? That was...wow. Exciting, actually. Everyone here seemed to have impeccable taste, their lack of color and Steve aside.

Wren grinned and Bucky shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his own lips. "Well, if you need anything..."

Wren mimed knocking on a door.

"You got it kid," Bucky smirked, ruffling her greasy hair. Wren leveled him with a disapproving look but that only seemed to be funnier to him.

Three thorough washes with Winter Freeze shampoo, a deep conditioning, and a scrub down with deliciously scented body wash later, Wren stepped out of the shower feeling like a million bucks. She didn't get to make the water as hot as she wanted to, you know, because of the burn, but it was amazing nonetheless. She even managed to find a new toothbrush, women's deodorant, and razor that hadn't been there the day before under the sink. Obviously her smell hadn't gone unnoticed, but she wasn't sure how it could have. She brushed her teeth then shaved away the years worth of unwanted hair on her legs and under her arms. Before the Raft shaving was tedious and she didn't like the upkeep, her legs often going weeks untouched, but not having the option definitely made gave her a newfound appreciation for smooth legs. She didn't rush, figuring it would probably take Bucky a bit to get back. Walking out in a towel when he was there would not be a good idea. A good fantasy, but not good for her health.

Her hair was a bitch to get through. She knew it was bad, but even with all of the conditioner she put in, there were some matted areas that were so tangled she didn't think she would ever get them out. She sat on the edge of the tub, glaring at the floor as she worked through it, the thought of just asking them to chop it off passing her mind more than once, but she persevered, making it through with the brush and her hair still (relatively) intact.

When she finally peeked her head outside, the giant box of clothes was sitting on her bed, as promised. She hurried over, even more excited now that they were actually in front of her. There were several types of bottoms, luckily mostly yoga pants and leggings, but there were several pair of nice dark wash jeans too. Along with that there were some tank tops, sweaters, t-shirts, socks; pretty much anything she could ever need. There were no tags or packaging on any of it, but she could tell they were new and expensive. She tried not too think to hard about the fact that Bucky had brought down a dozen pair of laced panties and a handful of bras, but the fact that she could throw away the one in the bathroom floor made it worth the possible embarrassment.

Wren had a hard time picking from such a large selection, but eventually she slipped on a pair of the socks, yoga style pants with a grey tank top, and covered it with the biggest size of shirt in the box, a dark green flannel. It didn't even come close to touching her neck, and was a lot warmer than she had expected, staving off some of the cold.

She looked herself over in the mirror, from the pallor of her skin to the hollowness in her eyes, and felt them to burn. She looked so...different. She couldn't even remember what she used to look like, the life before The Raft seeming almost like a dream, fuzzy and distorted, but she knew in her gut that the girl then and the girl she was looking at now were not the same person. The clothes were beautiful, but her stomach turned to lead looking at them on her body. It felt like wearing a mask, or putting duct tape on a broken plate. It didn't fix the damage, it just covered it up.

She swallowed and rubbed at her face, swiping away the few traitorous tears that managed to fall. This was stupid. She had a bed and an actual bathroom, new clothes. She should be happy, or-or grateful at the very least. She hadn't cried in a long time, so why now? 

_Because you were drugged out of your fucking mind_ , her brain supplied. _It was bound to catch up to you._

Wren laid down on her bed and pulled the blankets tightly against her. She almost wished she could go back to the Raft, for no other reason than to have those pills again. It would have been easier than dealing with all of..this.

As great as everything was, Wren wasn’t stupid. There was a reason she was put in a collar and a straitjacket. She was smart. Smart enough not to trust this, or to believe this peace and comfort would last forever. Getting used to it would just make it harder when it came to an end. On the off chance they didn't decided to send her back to the Raft, they would just kick her out and she would go back to struggling as she did before. She would spend her days working her ass off, her nights drinking just to fall asleep, and spend every waking moment looking over her shoulder, because really. How long could she run before Rowlock found her? She was smart, but he was smarter. He found her twice before and he would do it again. Wren stared at the fridge. Maybe she really would have just been better off dead.

**Author's Note:**

> How did you like it? 🥰 I’d love to hear your thoughts. Any critiques or criticisms are welcome, but please keep the responses respectful as possible. I can’t wait to hear from you!


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